The Secret to True Simcha
Parsha Jewels | July 02, 2026
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The Secret to True Simcha

Parsha Jewels | June 28, 2026

The Mishnah in Taanis teaches, "Mishenichnas Adar marbin b'simcha" when the month of Adar arrives, we increase our simcha.

A simple question comes to mind. How exactly are we supposed to increase our simcha?

When Chazal tell us that "Mishenichnas Av mema'atin b'simcha," they explain how to accomplish this. During the Nine Days we refrain from eating meat and drinking wine, we avoid celebrations, and we limit activities that bring joy.

However, when it comes to Adar, Chazal simply tell us to increase our simcha without providing any practical instructions. How are we supposed to do that?

Perhaps Chazal were teaching us that the answer is something we should already know.

Rav Shmuel Birnbaum zt"l shared a beautiful lesson from the Avnei Milu'im, the precious stones that were placed into the Choshen of the Kohen Gadol. These stones were among the most valuable objects in the world. Yet their greatness was not because of their rarity, beauty, or tremendous value. Their greatest accomplishment was that they filled the openings in the Choshen and completed it.

The Torah calls them Avnei Milu'im, filling stones. This teaches us a powerful lesson. A person's greatness is not determined by what he possesses. Rather, it is determined by whether he fulfills the purpose for which he was created. The highest praise that could be given to those precious gems was that they completed something greater than themselves.

The same is true for every Yid. Each of us was placed in this world with a unique mission. Sometimes that mission requires financial support. Sometimes it requires encouragement. Sometimes it requires listening, caring, teaching, or helping another person through a difficult situation. A person who fills the needs of others becomes an Avnei Milu'im. Such a person becomes truly valuable.

The Klausenberger Rebbe was known for delivering a shiur every Thursday night. On one occasion he was suffering from intense pain and announced that he would be unable to give the shiur. Many people were disappointed. Some had traveled great distances to hear his words. Half an hour later, despite his condition, the Rebbe gathered his strength and delivered the shiur.

Afterward, he returned to his room exhausted. The Rebbetzin informed him that several people were waiting outside. They desperately needed a brachah and guidance. The Rebbe replied, "I cannot. I am in too much pain." The Rebbetzin was puzzled. "If you are in such pain," she asked, "how were you able to give the shiur?" The Rebbe answered with a remarkable statement: "It is easier for me to give ten shiurim than to listen to the pain of another Yid." Giving a shiur required physical effort. Listening to another person's suffering required carrying their burden in his heart. That was much harder.

A similar story is told about Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach. Six months before his passing, Rav Shlomo Zalman was extremely weak and bedridden. One Motzaei Shabbos, his son Rav Baruch returned home from Selichos and was shocked to discover that his father was gone. He searched throughout the neighborhood but could not find him. Some time later Rav Shlomo Zalman returned.

"Totty," his son asked, "where were you? You are too weak even to attend Selichos." Rav Shlomo Zalman explained that every year before the first Selichos he visited an elderly Yid who lived on the sixth floor of an apartment building to wish him a good year. "If I do not go this year," Rav Shlomo Zalman explained, "he may think I forgot about him. He will feel alone."

His son was astonished. "But Totty, you did not have the strength to go to Selichos. How did you have the strength to climb six flights of stairs?" Rav Shlomo Zalman answered: "Selichos is between me and Hashem. Hashem knows that I am weak and He understands. But this Yid does not know my situation. If I do not come, he will feel hurt." His concern for another person's feelings outweighed his own weakness.

The Steipler Gaon once received a letter from a bachur who was struggling to find his shidduch. The young man asked for a brachah. After reading the letter, the Steipler sent back an unexpected response.

The Mishnah in Taanis teaches, "Mishenichnas Adar marbin b'simcha" when the month of Adar arrives, we increase our simcha.

A simple question comes to mind. How exactly are we supposed to increase our simcha?

When Chazal tell us that "Mishenichnas Av mema'atin b'simcha," they explain how to accomplish this. During the Nine Days we refrain from eating meat and drinking wine, we avoid celebrations, and we limit activities that bring joy.

However, when it comes to Adar, Chazal simply tell us to increase our simcha without providing any practical instructions. How are we supposed to do that?

Perhaps Chazal were teaching us that the answer is something we should already know.

Rav Shmuel Birnbaum zt"l shared a beautiful lesson from the Avnei Milu'im, the precious stones that were placed into the Choshen of the Kohen Gadol. These stones were among the most valuable objects in the world. Yet their greatness was not because of their rarity, beauty, or tremendous value. Their greatest accomplishment was that they filled the openings in the Choshen and completed it.

The Torah calls them Avnei Milu'im, filling stones. This teaches us a powerful lesson. A person's greatness is not determined by what he possesses. Rather, it is determined by whether he fulfills the purpose for which he was created. The highest praise that could be given to those precious gems was that they completed something greater than themselves.

The same is true for every Yid. Each of us was placed in this world with a unique mission. Sometimes that mission requires financial support. Sometimes it requires encouragement. Sometimes it requires listening, caring, teaching, or helping another person through a difficult situation. A person who fills the needs of others becomes an Avnei Milu'im. Such a person becomes truly valuable.

The Klausenberger Rebbe was known for delivering a shiur every Thursday night. On one occasion he was suffering from intense pain and announced that he would be unable to give the shiur. Many people were disappointed. Some had traveled great distances to hear his words. Half an hour later, despite his condition, the Rebbe gathered his strength and delivered the shiur.

Afterward, he returned to his room exhausted. The Rebbetzin informed him that several people were waiting outside. They desperately needed a brachah and guidance. The Rebbe replied, "I cannot. I am in too much pain." The Rebbetzin was puzzled. "If you are in such pain," she asked, "how were you able to give the shiur?" The Rebbe answered with a remarkable statement: "It is easier for me to give ten shiurim than to listen to the pain of another Yid." Giving a shiur required physical effort. Listening to another person's suffering required carrying their burden in his heart. That was much harder.

A similar story is told about Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach. Six months before his passing, Rav Shlomo Zalman was extremely weak and bedridden. One Motzaei Shabbos, his son Rav Baruch returned home from Selichos and was shocked to discover that his father was gone. He searched throughout the neighborhood but could not find him. Some time later Rav Shlomo Zalman returned.

"Totty," his son asked, "where were you? You are too weak even to attend Selichos." Rav Shlomo Zalman explained that every year before the first Selichos he visited an elderly Yid who lived on the sixth floor of an apartment building to wish him a good year. "If I do not go this year," Rav Shlomo Zalman explained, "he may think I forgot about him. He will feel alone."

His son was astonished. "But Totty, you did not have the strength to go to Selichos. How did you have the strength to climb six flights of stairs?" Rav Shlomo Zalman answered: "Selichos is between me and Hashem. Hashem knows that I am weak and He understands. But this Yid does not know my situation. If I do not come, he will feel hurt." His concern for another person's feelings outweighed his own weakness.

The Steipler Gaon once received a letter from a bachur who was struggling to find his shidduch. The young man asked for a brachah. After reading the letter, the Steipler sent back an unexpected response.

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